Throughout most of my childhood, I was a chubby kid. I could post a bunch of pictures to prove this, but I need not embarrass myself this early in the day. I certainly didn't have good eating habits (I had a love of Skor bars and since I stayed home alone afterschool, I used to make great things like "lemon sludge" while no one was watching. The recipe: Take one lemon, squeeze the juice into a bowl, then pour as much sugar as you can until it resembles a nice bowl of sugar sludge. Eat with spoon. Save up for cavity care later), though I did a host of sports that kept me pretty active. I was always bigger than my Perfect Sister, who, was, well, perfect at everything. For some reason I chose to do every activity she did, which I think was a masochistic ritual that allowed me get my ass handed to me readily and frequently.

Then I went away to college, and in my horribly unpleasant freshman year, I adopted a new diet, generally referred to as not eating. I battled anorexia for a good year and a half, and though I got down to a fairly dangerous weight, when I managed to right myself, I bounced back to the chubby adult that I had been beforehand (don't get me started on what a crock of crap I was handed at the nutritionist's office. "Eat what you want, your body will even itself out." "No, you won't end up overweight again." Lying liars). After a few years back in normalcy, my senior year of college rolled around, and through a horrible case of anxiety, I managed to stop eating again and dropped a lot of weight. It was never intended to be a weight loss program (it was not, I repeat, not, a relapse of the anorexia, I wanted to eat, I really genuinely did, but was paralyzed by a series of horribly irrational fears), but I was not in control of my emotions or feelings or anything, and subsequently lost about 45 pounds, which oddly put me at pretty much the ideally healthy weight.

I've managed to maintain that weight for the past 3 years with virtually no exercising whatsoever. Once upon a time I used to run daily and work out, and back then, I had, what are they called again? oh yes, muscles. It seems that my metabolism has finally made up for all those years of laughing and pointing while every calorie I consumed stuck to my thighs. I can eat mostly whatever I want (though I am portion size conscious because when I over-eat, I pay for it in spades with horrible nausea) and stay within a 5 pound range of where I usually am. Don't hate me, I had 21 years of watching every thing I ate and this surely won't last now that I've written it down.

But see, now there's a wedding. There will be pictures. There will probably be a strapless dress. There will be copious amounts of arm flab. And I know what you're thinking, but really, there's not a muscle to speak of in the whole area, it's just a bunch of various tissues, hanging there. And, my stomach. I realize that no one is going to see anything beneath my dress at my wedding (I'm leaving a very obvious joke option open here), but I am going on a honeymoon and I do eventually want to wear a bathing suit but I have perhaps one of the least attractive stomachs ever. I have what is lovingly referred to as the belly button cavern. There are many jokes about how it has it's own gravity pull and one of my favorite ways to freak people out is to store a manner of disgustingly big items in it, it's really that big and that unattractive. I'd capture it on film too, but there's not a computer screen large enough to handle it.

Now here's the problem, my brain is stupid. I finally got myself out of bed this morning and got onto my mom's fancy new elliptical machine and I made it precisely 20 minutes before I had to lie down to prevent my head from exploding. I don't talk much about my stupid brain, but because my brain hangs down into my spinal canal, there are a host of irritating issues that I deal with. One of which is that when I exercise and my heart rate goes up, my blood pressure goes up and then my intercranial pressure goes up (or so I understand it), and thus my head HURTS. Not like, a headache, like a head bomb. I do not know how to deal with this, and neither does anyone else, so I'm trying a new form of exercise. It's like circuit training. I do a few minutes of exercise, and then I lie down. I do a few more minutes, lie back down. I may finish this workout sometime this evening if I'm lucky.

So if you don't hear from me for a few days, it's because I'm lying on the floor, willing my brain to be contained. Either that or this God-forsaken wireless internet is down again.

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About Me

I'm a 26 year old former teacher turned full time graduate student. I live in Southern California after a 3 year stint in New Orleans with my husband Slappy (formerly The Fiance) and our cats (yea, we're those people).
In February of 2006 I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation, which is a fancy way of saying that my brain was too big for my skull (get it? overflowing brain). On November 27th, 2007 I had brain surgery which allows my brain to exist indefinitely in my spinal canal. 13 staples, one cow heart lining and a multitude of doctors and medications later, I'm living a much improved decompressed life.